The Golf Cart Incident
by Dali2theLlamasquared
Summary: This is a response to a challenge on Psychfic. Never take a psychic golfing. Mild swearing. One-shot.


**A/N: This is my first Psychfic. It is a response to the challenge by LittleFairy "Bandages and Plaster", to take one of the times in Gus' blog where he and Shawn got hurt and elaborate. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Psych, nor any of the characters.**

**The Golf Cart Incident**

There was a reason that Gus rarely allowed Shawn to drive. It had nothing to do with the fact that he had two speeds: fast and faster. Nor did it really have to do with the fact that the Psychmobile was a company car. Or the fact that he had "accidentally" keyed the entire side of it once when trying to see who could make the more annoying noise. (Shawn had won, since his screams could be heard by the SBPD all the way from the harbor). It didn't really have to do with the time that Shawn used his car to play "Pimp My Ride." Besides, Shawn had paid to get the flames painted over. And the five times that they had run out of gas in the middle of the desert in Mexico played almost no part in the reason why Gus withheld the keys from his happy-go-lucky friend. At least then there had been tequila, and they hadn't been in a huge hurry anyway. Besides…they really tried not to discuss the last time they'd gotten stuck in the desert, or the rash after they trekked through the cactus…Gus thanked God daily that that had stayed in Mexico. He could still remember the witchdoctor telling him that to make the rash go away he had to urinate on himself…okay, so maybe the last time they'd run out of gas in Mexico played a small role in the reason why Shawn rarely got to drive the car. But it had nothing to do with the reason why Shawn was barred from driving vehicles with four wheels in general.

The real reason was, Gus couldn't trust Shawn when he was in the driver's seat. Which was why he was not going to give into his pleading—there was no way that he was going to let Shawn drive—not today.

"Aww…c'mon, Gus, that was like fifteen years ago!"

"Don't care, Shawn."

"Gus…"

"Shut up, Shawn."

Picking up his clubs and heaving them in the back of the golf cart, Shawn released a melodramatic sigh. "Don't be chewed up gum on the bottom of my sneakers, Gus. I just want to drive the cart."

"Shawn, I may not have a photographic memory, but I will never, never, forget the last time you drove the golf cart."

"Gus…c'mon, I didn't even have my learner's permit then."

Gus's bag dropped to the ground. "You didn't? You told me you did!"

Shawn slipped around to the other side of the cart, hands held out, placating. "No I didn't…I simply _implied_ that I had my learner's permit to get you to let me drive…Gus…put the nine iron down…"

"I'm gonna kill you, Shawn!"

"Now, Gus…you just ended up a little wet…"

"A little wet! A little wet! I'm gonna make sure you lose feeling in your other heel, Shawn! You better run!"

Shawn couldn't help but think, as he dodged a flying golf ball and rounded hole number seven, that he hadn't run this fast since the last time Gus was chasing him on a golf course, on the day of the notorious "Golf Cart Incident".

And really, the whole thing had been an accident. He hadn't meant to insult Gus' girlfriend…not really. It wasn't his fault that she looked like a slightly tanner version of Mr. Stay Puft from Ghostbuster's…and it wasn't his fault that the comparison had slipped out of his mouth. Really, the day hadn't been going all that bad…

His dad had agreed to drop him off at the golf course with Gus, they'd been taking lessons and the two of them had been planning for months to play nine holes. And so as a, slightly belated, birthday present to Gus, Shawn had set up a tee time, and even convinced his dad to let them go out by themselves, promising to stay away from pointy objects and keep out of trouble. Not that either of those promises ended up being fulfilled…but it wasn't like it had happened on purpose. Nope, he could still remember the entire incident like it was yesterday.

"I think you should carry the clubs…it is my birthday present, Shawn."

"And, admit it, it is way better then the box of chocolates Miss Stay Puft got for you."

Shawn knew he should run even before he saw Gus raising the driver towards his head. But after five minutes, Gus was winded, and shouting at Shawn to "Get your skinny little white ass back here so I can use it as a tee."

"Is there anyway I can prevent that from happening?" Shawn hollered from the top of the hill, as Gus glared up at him.

"Yeah, rent a golf cart so I don't have to walk all nine holes!"

"Done!" So, it really was Gus' fault in the first place…if he hadn't requested the cart…

Ten minutes later the clubs had been loaded into the golf cart, and Shawn was trying to convince Gus to let him drive. "Dude, I am so a better driver than you."

"I think I'm the more responsible…"

"Do you have a permit?"

"Well, not yet…"

"Then I should drive!" And it was settled. Just because Shawn didn't have a permit either was no reason for him not to drive the golf cart.

The first hole wasn't too bad. Shawn only hit one person with a golf ball, and Gus had managed to duck when Shawn's grip slipped and his iron went flying over the other teen's head. Gus had spent five minutes trying to figure out where to put his tee to keep his ball from drifting too far towards the southwest because of a slight wind. Shawn complained about the non-existent wind, and Gus blamed the breeze when his ball bounced off the hood of a car. But other than that, they had to admit the first hole wasn't too bad.

Apparently the wind was slightly worse by the time they reached the second hole, because forty strokes later, Shawn finally managed to make it out of the adjoining field and back onto the green. Gus had asked him to quit awhile back, but was ignored. Not that Gus was surprised or anything like that. Shawn had the uncanny ability to ignore everyone around him—something Gus had never been able to do to Shawn.

"Shawn, we've spent forty minutes on this hole, why don't you just pick up your ball and drop it in the hole?"

"Because, Gus, that would be cheating, and I learned my lesson after I had to play with one less battleship for an entire month."

"That didn't stop you from cheating at Risk."

"Did you ever catch me cheating?"

"No."

"Then you can't prove I was cheating, and therefore I wasn't."

"Just hit the stupid ball Shawn."

"Fine." Shawn raised his club in a good impression of a bear with a machete. And he brought it down with about as much tact as one, causing a large clump of dirt to rain down on Gus' head, the perfectly manicured grass becoming part of his new hairdo. The ball still rested in the same spot, not even having been moved by the large breeze of Shawn's iron passing overtop of it.

"I hate you, Shawn."

"Aww…Gus, your girlfriend is going to love the new haircut…but, you have a little something on your shirt." Shawn reached out and brushed at the dirt. "Dude…your eye is twitching."

"I should have known not to go golfing with you!"

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

"I should have said no, just like that time we were ten and I ended up with my hands super-glued to by butt!"

"Do you see any superglue around?"

"Stop trying to change the subject, Shawn."

"I'm not the one that mentioned getting my fingers glued to my rearen…why, hello ladies."

Gus flushed as he realized two scantily clad women were standing behind them. "Hi, my friend and I were wondering if we could play through…since you guys were taking so long."

That comment helped him redirect his anger, though, banishing his embarrassment. "No need. My friend and I were just moving on to the next hole." And before Shawn could protest he had picked up the ball, snatched the club, and was stalking back towards the golf cart.

"Gus…" the whining followed him all the way back to the cart. "I was gonna score big time…"

"You're tellin' me, so far you're up to seventy eight strokes, and I didn't count the last ten."

"Okay, so my golf skills may need a little refining." He shot a quick look at Gus and grinned. "My driving skills on the other hand…"

"Uh-uh, Shawn, no wheelies."

"But, Guuuusssss…"

Gus hadn't thought that the golf outing could get any worse. Apparently he should have knocked on wood. Shawn had just stuck his tee in the ground and was attempting to get the ball to stay on it when Gus' worse fears were realized—Shawn decided to name the ball.

"I don't know if I can do it, Gus."

"Do what, Shawn? If you need me to set up the tee for you…"

"No, no…I'm not sure I can hit Lola with good conscience."

"Lola? Who's Lola?"

"My ball, silly."

Gus took a deep breath. "Shawn, if you don't hit Lola, I will, and I can guarantee, I won't be nice about it."

"Fine…"

Gus watched as Shawn set up and swung, the club connecting with the ball and sending it flying through the air cresting before plummeting and making contact with the earth, letting out an audible 'splash!'

"NOOO!!! LOLA! Gus, she can't swim!"

"Shawn, I'm sure Lola will be fine, there's lots of other balls there for her to befriend." Gus wondered if someday Shawn was going to get a job that required a lot of acting, because he was definitely good at hamming it up. "Just use another ball."

"Don't worry, Lola!" Shawn called, pulling out another golf ball. "There is no ball more precious to me than you! I will cherish your memory…" Gus tuned out the rest of the epitaph, and was surprised when the remainder of the hole went relatively well. Shawn even managed to get the ball in under twenty strokes. Gus should have known then that it was a bad sign.

"I wonder how this baby would do off road."

"Shawn, the signs say to stay on the path."

"Or what?"

"Shawn…"

It was too late. His irresponsible friend had already veered off the path and was heading off road. Gus was just thankful there was no one there to see them as Shawn attempted to zoom through the rough, throwing a fit over the fact that the cart couldn't seem to break the speed of ten mph. "See, look, short cut."

And then they were both off road and going up hill. Gus was starting to get that feeling that warned him that whatever Shawn was about to do was going to get one or both of them hurt. "Shawn, I don't think this is a good idea."

"Dude, the tee box is right up there…"

"Shawn…is it just me, or is the cart slowing down?"

It was sounding rather pathetic, a whirring whine was starting to make itself known.

"Nah…" Shawn pushed a little harder on the gas, and cart lurched, and halted, before suddenly picking up velocity…in reverse.

"AHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

What would always amaze Gus was his best-friend's sense of self-preservation. Instead of stepping on the break, Shawn did the next best thing. "ABANDON SHIP!!!" Except when he tried to abandon the ship, he didn't quite clear it, and though he left Gus in the passenger seat, in a golf-cart that was rolling downhill at maximum velocity, it was Shawn that managed to get hurt when his foot got caught when he jumped, causing him to face plant and then subsequently get his ankle run over by the moving vehicle, the pressure causing one of the golf tees in his pocket to puncture his thigh, successfully breaking both promises to his dad, of staying away from pointy things and keeping out of trouble, while leaving Gus to experiment with his sailor language all the way downhill, until there was a very audible splash and a resounding, "SHAWN!!!!"

Shawn, struggling to sit because of his crushed ankle and bleeding thigh, managed to see just as Gus surfaced in the water hole, the golf cart slowly sinking. Cupping his hands around his mouth, Shawn replied, "DO ME A FAVOR WHILE YOU'RE DOWN THERE, AND GET LOLA FOR ME!"

Lola had subsequently been whipped at his head, resulting in a black eye, which Shawn admitted to deserving. Though he didn't feel he deserved the lecture as Gus helped him hobble his way up to the main building, nor had he felt that he deserved the chores his dad had assigned to him for the next year and a half…it wasn't like he hadn't learned his lesson when he realized he'd never have feeling in his left heel again…though it wasn't that bad, he could have lost feeling in his hand or something instead.

Gus had sworn to never let him drive again, and though he eventually forgave him for the entire incident, he'd get sore after Shawn would remind him of the image of him rising from the water, dripping like some swamp creature from the deep, with a lily pad on his head…

"Dude! I'm sorry, alright, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the learner's permit!"

"And?" Gus held the club threateningly over Shawn's head.

"I'm sorry I jumped ship on you."

"And?"

"I'm sorry you didn't see the look on your face that day, dude, you were screaming like a girl the entire way down the hill! OW!" Yes. There were most definitely a reason why Burton Guster generally did not let Shawn Spencer drive vehicles with four wheels. Some people had called it stupidity, but most just referred to it as, "The Golf Cart Incident."

**A/N: Let me know what you think! Thanks.**


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